


Nightmares from the Deep (Mermaid AU)

by MadameWinter, Sister of Silence (Orcbait)



Series: Perpetual Nonesense (the AU-niverse) [2]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Romance, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameWinter/pseuds/MadameWinter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orcbait/pseuds/Sister%20of%20Silence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of our many crazy AU's, this time set at sea during the Napoleonic wars. Admiral Henri Chevalier does not believe in mer, even less so when his generally down-to-earth first mate Joseph Bellaire swears by their existence. However, Bellaire does not subscribe to idly beliefs lightly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares from the Deep (Mermaid AU)

**Author's Note:**

> AU with the usual cast:
> 
> The Emperor of Mankind - Admiral David Jones  
> Alistair Fitzroy - Joseph Bellaire  
> Arlette - Calypso  
> Francis - Lunaris

Calypso ran her webbed hands through her tangled, laurel green hair as she grinned at the slowly moving image at the horizon. It was sleek with a pointed beak and square end, it's many trapped wind-catchers straining in the gales on their three poles. The black and white strips gleamed in the bright sunlight, catching the iron of cannons. Her tail slapped against the rock she reclined upon in excitement. “Luna, Luna look!” She pointed a finger at the vessel in the distance, all but quivering with glee.

Lunaris glanced up from the seaweed he was knotting, the delicate mesh shawl decorated with pearls and shells. “What is it?”

Calypso grinned a broad array of shark-like teeth bare. “A ship.”

Lunaris glanced over his shoulder in the direction she was pointing, mild disinterest pulling at his features before turning back to his works. “There's dozens of them every day, Calypso. It's just a sand-walker whale hunter, they're no sport.”

“No it's not,” Calypso rebuked, glaring at her mate. “It has three wind-catchers, one of them crooked. And it flies one of those coloured blankets.” She peered at the ship. “Red and white and blue...”

Lunaris flinched, but when Calypso glanced at him sideways he rubbed his hand as if he had merely cut himself on the netting he was creating. “So they are war-seekers, let them. If they meet another, it's free lunch without any effort.”

Calypso splashed a handful of brine at Lunaris before pointing an incriminating finger at him. “I do not wait for the tides to give me what I want!” Lunaris wiped his face, pushing his braided scarlet hair aside, not meeting her eyes.

Calypso's gaze drifted back to the ship. “Call a storm.”

“Do you see any clouds?” Lunaris dared protest. “I need at least some clouds to work with, I cannot create a storm from nothing.”

Calypso leaned towards Lunaris and snarled, baring her teeth. He instinctively reached a hand around his swollen stomach, as if to protect the eggs resting inside him from their mother if necessary. “Would it not be better to wait for night? It'll increase the thrill, you know the mud-children are blind in the dark.”

Calypso eyed him for a long moment, then nodded slightly before giggling at the thought of driving the hapless creatures onto the very rocks they sat upon. Her earlier toothy smile returned. “I will tell the others,” she announced before diving into the water.

Lunaris watched her disappear under the waves with a sigh, glancing across his shoulders at the ship and in particularly it's odd coloured blanket. Could it be? He shook his head and returned to his work. There were many vessels like it.

* * *

Admiral David Jones stood at the prow of his ship, blue coat, white breeches and sword clean to military standards. He gazed out onto the horizon, a serious expression upon his stern features as the ship was steered upon the course he had just given. The wind tugged at his long hair, despite the neat ponytail he'd bound it in and the bicorne tilted just so upon his head. It was a fine day, almost too beautiful to be real. They had full winds to their sails, clear skies, and it didn't look as if that was about to change any time soon. They were making good way.

“Your posts, men! Get on with you!” The barks of his first mate rang across the lower deck in response to the Admiral's commands, sending the crew scurrying to their posts without question. Joseph Bellaire was a scoundrel and a womaniser, and Jones had regularly met a better person, but not a better first mate. A rare man whose bite was infinitely worse than his plenty awful bark, Bellaire sincerely meant every threat and incitement he hurled around regardless of how cruel they seemed. Jones smiled wryly as he watched Bellaire drag a crewman by his shirt from the lower riggings, their faces nose to nose as the wind carried threats of flogging to Jones' ears. He preferred to lead through the respect he had earned from his crew, but a decent amount of fear was necessary to keep the rougher types in line and it was this regard, especially, in which Bellaire was an irreplaceable asset.

When all were at work, Bellaire clambered up the foredeck and hailed their captain. Jones beckoned him over with a nod.

“These are unsafe waters, Admiral,” Bellaire said as he appeared at Jones' side. “We'd best avoid these parts for I've heard ships vanish around here.” He gave his superior a look. “Only to turn up as skeletal wrecks on the sand banks years later.”

“If we are to retain power against the French and English, we'll need a presence in these waters, Bellaire. The Dutchman is more than a match for any other threat that hangs over these oceans.” Jones replied, a frown creasing his brow. He knew Bellaire was religious despite his unsavoury manners, and it made him predictably superstitious.

“These waters are cursed, I tell you,” Bellaire replied stubbornly.

“Cursed?” Jones inquired as he looked his superstitious first mate up and down.

Bellaire gave him a smile that reminded him unpleasantly of a tom cat. “Mermaids.”

“Mermaids don't exist, Bellaire. They are the excuse of substandard captains and drunk crewman,” Jones replied curtly, his frown markedly deepening. “They belong in children's bed time stories, not the thoughts of my first mate.”

Bellaire said nothing but his scowl spoke volumes as he turned leave.

Jones turned back to the sea, steering his thoughts back to their route. However, his mind kept drifting back to the notion of mermaids. Theories flitted amongst his thoughts, his mind calculating possibilities all but on its own accord. “Perhaps...” he mused, lost among his own thoughts. “Though surely less intelligent...”

“That's a pretty arrogant notion, sir,” Bellaire's voice came from right behind him, it's smugness evident even without seeing the man's ugly grin.

“Don't force my hand,” Jones warned as he turned.

Bellaire shrugged, as if not truly caring. “It hardly matters. Mermaids can't be intelligent, they aren't real, didn't you say?”

The man had him there. Jones gave him a hard look. His first mate was clearly enjoying having made his notoriously atheist Admiral consider something as ridiculous as life under the waves other than fish.

“Our course is steady,” Bellaire continued, relaying the helmsman's message and the reason for his swift return, no doubt. “Though we're about to throw nets over. The cook wants something half decent tonight. With your permission, Admiral.”

Jones ignored the sharp jibe and straightened his jacket. “Very well. I'll be in my cabin, adjusting the remainder of our course. We have more than enough sea to chart.”

A grin played across Bellaire's lips. “Trying to find-”

Jones spun round and seized Bellaire by his collar, pushing him up and across the prow's rail with a single hand. “Try me. Try and complete that sentence, Joseph. You can't swim can you?,” he growled. “Go on. Finish it, then?”

Bellaire maintained his grin despite being tipped precariously across the rail. “I am not completely suicidal, Davy.”

Jones glared at him, resisting the urge to shove the obnoxious man overboard. But only just. “Get out of my sight,” he snapped as he threw Bellaire onto the deck and left.

Bellaire sprawled across the planks, laying on his back he could see the crew throw out nets, including the red tagged one he had added to the pile. A shark's grin curled around his lips as his gaze flicked to Jones' retreating backside.

* * *

Lunaris clung to the bottom of the ship, using the scum and barnacles to find grip as he searched for the wayfinder mark he had made in its wood months earlier. Normally, a pregnant male such as himself was dependent on their mate for food, staying in a cave or trench out of harm's way. However, Calypso had made it clear from the first day that she had no intention of providing Lunaris with food until the little ones prevented him completely from venturing out. Seal meat and the occasional shark only went so far. Fortunately, there were plenty sand-walkers upon the seas these days and their vessels not quite as sturdy as they thought.

Lunaris could feel the weight of the eggs shift as he searched. “Shhh, be calm,” he bubbled despite himself, still searching the wood. “Food is coming.” When he found the mark, he was torn by both intense happiness and concern. He quickly let himself drop from the bow as Calypso approached.

Calypso rode the wake, flint trident in hand. Her fins cut the water with her terrifying speed. She was a typical war-seeker, her sleek figure honed for the kill from razor sharp teeth to smooth translucent tail. The water sleeked her green hair behind her revealing the shaven sides. The skin had been masterfully tattooed with twisted knotwork. Lunaris had been the one to tattoo her and he considered the patterns his finest work yet. Lunaris had considered himself lucky to be chosen and courted by her, there had been plenty others. Lunaris looked up at the bright sun rays piercing the water as the ship carried them along. It would be a while yet before night fell, before he'd call the storm.

Few mer had the ability to call upon storms now, a dwindling legacy of the time when mer and wynn had been the same. Abilities such as these had come easily to them then and in many a variety. But now only he, and those few like him, were left. War had torn and divided them in ways even the prophets had not foreseen. Lunaris' hand strayed to his stomach and his thoughts to the eggs within. The young mer he spawned would hopefully carry his abilities. They needed every single storm caller, if they were to keep the mud-children from invading further into their seas.

Comments had been made that all those males possessed of gifts like his ought to be bound to the trenches and caves of their colony. To keep them safe and to free their time to nurse as many young as they could. Lunaris had quietly dreaded the prospect of a life locked in the cave systems they called their home, never to swim freely in open waters again, and had pleaded with Calypso to not make it so. She was one of their most accomplished war-seekers, her opinion would be heard. Unlike his.

Calypso had shared his concerns and told her peers that she would subject no mer to such a treatment, not even a male. And that it was in direct violation of their community's values, even though at the surface it might seem beneficial. Lunaris had been pleased, though he wondered if Calypso's insistence he fend for himself until he couldn't had anything to do with her decision.

Calypso's voice echoed through the water, calling others to the hunt. It would take more than two mer to take on a powerful ship of the line. Within minutes the sharp silhouettes of other war-seekers came into focus against the blue ocean, swimming towards them at great speeds.

“Stay quiet until I say otherwise,” Calypso said, though Lunaris need not be told. Calypso's closest companions were the first to arrive, their features streamlined and vicious like hers. One had her hair shorn to one side with deep scarification burned into a perfect knot of good fortune. The other had woven razor shells in her hair, glinting iridescent colours as the filtered sunlight hit them.

“You brought your male, why?” the scarified one inquired as she twirled her trident and glanced disparagingly at Lunaris' swollen stomach, easily keeping up with the ship as they followed it. “He should be in a trench where your legacy is safe.”

“You know he is a storm caller, Mirsyla,” Calypso deflected. “That is why he's here.”

The razor haired one gave Lunaris a faintly more respectful look upon learning this, her lance rested across her shoulder as she came swimming between them. But Mirsyla merely scoffed, spinning her trident. “Males,” she spat. “Even a storm caller should know his place.”

Lunaris shrank sideways, swimming on Calypso's other side and closer to the ship. He felt safer there. His hand strayed to the wood as he glanced up.

“He knows,” Calypso replied. “I will not feed him while he can still swim and hunt well for himself, and call a storm for us all the same.”

“That's unkind,” the razor haired one frowned as she shifted her lance. “It is custom to bring sustenance, and you put the young ones at risk sending him out on his own.”

“If he doesn't have the strength to keep them safe or feed them, I don't want them,” Calypso replied as she swam ahead, Mirsyla and Lunaris in tow. As they swam large nets dropped into the water above them. “Go see if there is clouds yet,” Calypso instructed Lunaris. “And beware those nets.”

“I will,” Lunaris replied as he boosted himself upward, easily avoiding the crude nets with smooth strokes of his tail. He counted them as he passed them and when confident they were all out he breached the surface to glance at the sky. Yet moments later another net flung out and fell down upon Lunaris, it's red tagged mesh entangling his fins. His eyes grew large when he recognised it and gave a piercing shriek in panic, writhing frantically as he felt the net haul him out of the water.

Calypso snarled viciously and rocketed upwards, trident raised and teeth bared to slash her mate free. Lunaris tore and bit at the net but couldn't break it, unlike the crude ones all around that were no match for their teeth. The more he struggled the more he entangled himself in the net, already unable to move his tail at all. By the time Calypso reached him, the net had broken the surface, hauling the squirming Lunaris into the searing sunlight.

“Something swam in already!”

“Its heavy, damn, must be a big fish indeed!”

The raw, loud voices hurt Lunaris' sensitive ears. He struggled more and more, thinking only of the precious eggs he carried and how they would surely destroy them as they cut him apart. He shrieked as he slammed down onto the deck, nearly breaking his tail, the ropes tearing at his scales and threatening to rip them away. The wood was hot, rough and unpleasant, pricking his skin where scales did not protect him. Lunaris curled up tightly, his arms around his waist, trying to ignore the pain of the net and the hot sunlight. Raw air burned his gills as his lungs struggled to cope with the sudden change in environment.

“Lord protect us,” came a shocked whisper as the nets were tugged away. The pulling hands were soon replaced by a pole, as no one wanted to be too close to the monster. “Get the first mate.”

Lunaris kept himself curled up tightly, snarling and hissing at the clumsy split tails the mud-children that had dragged him from the sea stood upon. He bared his own razor teeth in an effort to frighten them away but the pain made moving difficult and the sunlight dazed his awareness.

“Out of my way, you sorry scrubs!” Someone shouted. Lunaris whimpered at it's familiarity, recognising it through the pain and burning heat. Lunaris' sight was blurry but someone knelt beside him. Course hands stinking of tar and gun powder reached for him, a gleaming object in one hand. He squealed in fear, but the cut never came. Instead netting was cut from his fins and tails, the brush of those hands against his scales as familiar as the voice had been. Heavy breath brushed past his sensitive ears, the same labouring from all those nights ago.

“So you are still here... how do you like the sun, huh?” Bellaire remarked as he leaned down to remove the last bit of netting, bringing his face close to the mer's. “Miss me?” he whispered, a little grin playing around his lips.

Lunaris could just make out the features of the mud child leaning over him now that they were close. Lunaris smiled hopefully at her, his heart jumping with joy at the sight of her features dominating his vision. Surely she'd put him back in the water and save him from the burning heat. “Not pleasant. Hot,” Lunaris managed, twisting his tongue as he tried to speak their language's inadequate words. “Happy, see you,” he added as he reached a scaled hand to her.

To his horror she slapped his hand away. “Sorry Luna, but I have appearances to consider.”

“No. Belle-air.” Lunaris replied haltingly, but the glare she gave him made him stop mid plead.

“Early lunch, boys! Get the hell to the mess and let the Admiral and myself handle this!” she shouted, standing over Lunaris. Lunaris didn't understand. What was she doing, why hadn't she returned him to the sea with those strong arms that had once cradled him on a moonlit beach?

“But what about...?” Someone dared return pointing at Lunaris.

“NOW!” Bellaire bellowed and Lunaris shivered, cringing back against the board and curling tighter into himself, shoulders heaving with sobs as the deck cleared very rapidly. Why was she acting like this? Couldn't she see how much pain he was in? Belle-air had not been this cruel when they had first met. Why had she pulled him up if she did not want to see him?

[To Be Continued...]

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of time and hard work went into the creation and publication of this story and as such it is very dear to us. We would love to hear what you thought of it! If you decide to share our story, please credit and link back to us. Thank you!


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